Unicorn
by trufflemores
Summary: Based on freakingpotter's absolutely adorable MIB fanart. Fluff, fluff, unicorns and stuff. Don't worry: you don't need to be familiar with Men in Black (or Men in Black III) to understand this. Klaine. COMPLETE.


**Disclaimer**: I do not own Glee or any of its characters; Ryan Murphy and Co. hold that honor. I'm simply writing this for fun, not profit.

Special Agent Kurt Hummel was stewing over his latest assignment as nondescriptly as possible when he heard the diner's tiny doorbell chime, announcing a newcomer's arrival. Blinking down at his coffee and projecting a distinct air of _leave me alone_, he sighed when the newcomer took a seat at the bar beside him, entirely oblivious to his irritation. It was practically encoded in the DNA of people who choose to be up before seven to be uncooperative; Kurt wasn't sure why he was surprised. Even refusing to look at him, Kurt was convinced that there was something strange about the newcomer, something a touch out of the ordinary.

"I'll have a medium drip and a nonfat mocha for the gentleman on my right," the newcomer ordered in a preternaturally bright voice, all but bouncing in his seat with delight. "And one of those delicious chocolate chip cookies, please."

"How old are you?" Kurt demanded, unable to help himself, spiteful because he was awake and he didn't want a stranger's coffee, dammit. He wanted to be back at headquarters working on an important mission instead of babysitting a _unicorn._ He couldn't conceive of a greater waste of his time, except maybe sitting next to a cheerful idiot that wanted to order him coffee, and he growled ominously as the waiter dropped a nonfat mocha in front of him.

Before he'd adequately prepared for anything of the sort, the newcomer piped in cheerfully, "I just turned three hundred and seven," just as Kurt took a sip of his coffee, prompting him to spit _out _half his coffee over an entirely displeased waiter's counter a moment later. "That's Warbler years, which would be about – oh, eighteen point nine human years? Forgive me, haven't done the conversions in nearly a decade." Giving a private chuckle as the now thoroughly confused waiter set both coffee and cookie before him, the newcomer added conversationally, "The service industry here is _wonderful._"

Head still spinning, Kurt decided that _this _was what HQ had meant by "a little charmingly obtuse, mostly harmless, deeply emotional. Just don't mention anything sad while you're near him, okay?"

There was no doubt in his mind that this coffee-guzzling newcomer was the Warbler unicorn – Blaine, Blaine, his name is Blaine – that he was meant to be babysitting. Had he been in a more charitable mood, he might even have felt _bad _at the thought that this was a last-of-its-species creature.

Unicorns were rare – especially given that most known alien races were thriving– but Kurt couldn't recall a unicorn _this _exceptional in years. There was something almost charming about the way that he straightened his blazer tie and smiled at the waiter as he laid down a handsome tip and spun in his seat, staring at Kurt with the brightest, most entrancing hazel eyes he'd ever seen.

Kurt very determinedly did not look at him, keeping his gaze stoically forward as he took a long sip of his own coffee. Once he had caffeine in his system, _then _he could deal with Blaine. Until then, he wasn't going to hurry his schedule for anyone.

He drained half the cup, fully aware of his audience. At last, he couldn't take the attention any longer, letting out a deep sigh and snapping, "What?"

"This is my favorite moment in human history!" Blaine explained delightedly. Kurt blinked, startled, but he didn't pause long enough for Kurt to get a word in edgewise, carrying on happily, "You, looking at me with that cute little frown and your beautiful blue eyes! It's like witnessing a miracle! Yes, this is my favorite moment by far."

Kurt blinked. And blinked. And very seriously considered thunking his head down on the table, except that was undignified.

"You must be Blaine," he said instead, every syllable tinging on a sigh as Blaine all but fell out of his seat.

"Oh my God, you know my name?" he asked, caught in the throes of an irrepressible ecstasy as he whirled in his seat, clapping his hands together, barely an inch from Kurt's very clearly delineated _personal space._

"Oh, this is wonderful, absolutely –"

It was at that precise moment that Blaine thrust the remainder of Kurt's steaming coffee over his suit jacket, startling a barked "Hey!" from him as he lunged backwards out of his seat, rearing like a scalded cat.

He stiffened when he saw the laser beam still frying in the wall where his head had been sulkily positioned a mere moment before, heart pounding.

"Oh, dear, it seems they've found you," Blaine said fretfully, grabbing onto Kurt's hand and tugging him anxiously towards the back of the diner, surprisingly calm in spite of a hole the size of a small elephant being punched into the diner wall. "We should avoid a direct encounter; they appear to be rather hostile_._"

Still reeling from the attempt on his life, Kurt asked, "How did you –"

"Anticipate what was going to happen precisely before it happened?" Blaine ducked around the corner, tugging Kurt along beside him as they hurried through the back-of-the-house towards the rear exit. He froze abruptly, looking puzzled and disappointed, and Kurt stopped, unsure what to make of the newest development as Blaine stood rigid in the center of the hallway.

Then, glumly, he announced, "They're returning to their ship. It seems they've already taken a hostage, that poor fellow."

"We'll get him back," Kurt assured, secretly relieved that he wouldn't have to face any more assassination attempts before he reached his car. All of his best gadgets were stored under the front compartment, and he was already kicking himself for neglecting to bring the good ones inside. Somehow he doubted a taser would work very well against anyone that armed themselves with a _laser gun._ Unfortunately, he was never as bright as he was supposed to be before his first cup of coffee.

"Come on," he said, waiting until Blaine looked at him with those same bright eyes before gesturing towards the exit. "Can't hide out here forever. I'm supposed to take you back to headquarters until they, uh." _Relocate you._ "Find a better place for you to stay."

"I thought that we would be spending together forever," Blaine said, his voice so devastatingly _sad _that Kurt felt terrible for bringing up the matter at all.

"See if you're still feeling the same way in a couple hours," he deflected, "it's a bit of a hike to HQ from here."

Brightening at the prospect of more time together but still visibly disheartened at the news that their separation was imminent (and, Kurt hoped, _permanent_), Blaine followed like an obedient child as Kurt lead the way out of the diner, pointedly ignoring the hole blasted into the wall.

It would be a long week if this was how his Monday started, he reflected.

. o .

Blaine wouldn't stop staring at a locket.

Kurt didn't want to pry – the less he spoke, the less Blaine seemed inclined to speak, a careful balance of companionable silence existing between them until Kurt broke it – but he couldn't help his natural curiosity after the first hour on the road had passed in near total silence.

"What is that?" he asked.

Blaine made a soft sound, a disgruntled little noise halfway between a laugh and a sigh. "Nothing but a memory, I'm afraid," he said, tucking the locket back inside his blazer pocket carefully. "A memento."

Stomach twisting, Kurt dared to ask, "Family?"

Another unhappy little sigh.

"I, uh. I lost my mother when I was eight," he explained. He wasn't too keen on sharing his personal life with strangers – he avoided sharing his personal life with _anyone _– but there was something about Blaine's distress that demanded a response, even one so selfish as _you lost your whole race, but I don't have a mother or stepbrother anymore._

To his surprise, Blaine reached over to cover the hand that Kurt had, in his distraction, left on the center console. "I'm very sorry to hear that," he said, and he meant it, Kurt knew, with every fiber of his being. There was just something about Blaine that was incredibly _sincere, _as if he couldn't say a lie. It was strangely comforting, and even in resumed silence, the rest of the drive was more peaceful.

. o .

They caught the would-be alien assassins within forty-eight hours of the attempt. It had been an exhausting trail to follow, traversing several states, but Kurt was glad to see their backs as security escorted them to two separate cells.

"Nice work, Agent K," an officer congratulated in passing. Kurt nodded once wearily in his direction before plodding off towards his own office.

He paused at the door, about to unhook his coat and hat from their rack when he noticed Blaine curled up on one of his chairs, sound asleep.

Even in his blazer, he looked comfortable, and Kurt considered tiptoeing quietly back out without waking him before sighing and walking over to him, giving his shoulder a gentle shake.

"Hm?" Blaine rolled onto his back with a long, sleepy sigh, blinking sluggishly up at Kurt and declaring, "Kurt."

"Hi. I, uh. I have a guest room. At my apartment. While your quarters are being renovated here," he explained, feeling an odd twinge of guilt at leaving Blaine alone and unoccupied in his office for the entirety of the search.

Blaine didn't seem upset at being stranded, looking positively delighted at the prospect of staying with Kurt as he rubbed his eyes and said sleepily, "I would love to. How much does rent cost?"

"You don't – there is no rent," Kurt said, flapping a hand dismissively before putting his hat on. "I'll – it's fine. It's on me." Offering him a hand, he smiled a little in spite of himself and said, "It'd be nice to have company for a change."

Blaine took his hand, smiling back as he hauled himself upright and said, "There's nowhere I would rather be than this moment."

It was, Kurt thought, a small victory; a suitable compromise; a happy accident.

. o .

Waking with a start, Kurt stared at his softly-snoring fiance's chest, sighing in relief as he rested his cheek back against it, tucking his arm more firmly around his chest.

No more action flicks before bed, he vowed, no matter how much Blaine pouted at him.


End file.
